You'll still be the sweetest boy in town
by Aprilborn
Summary: Tony has been brutally assaulted. Now Gibbs has to put him back together again. WARNING! GRAPHIC VIOLENCE! No slash, sorry. Just Tony/Gibbs father/son.
1. Disclaimer

**WARNING!!! THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT, LIKE RAPE, CHILD ABUSE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, MENTAL ILLNESS, HUMILIATION, SOME TORTURE, DRUG ABUSE, CORPORAL PUNISHMENT, AND ****SWEARING. IF ALL THIS BOTHERS YOU, PLEASE, PROCEED NO FURTHER. I'M SERIOUS. STOP RIGHT HERE. THIS MEANS YOU!!!**

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, even those who don't appear in the show! I just using them for fun—yeah, I am kinky that way—and make no profit. Please, don't sue me!

AUTHOR'S NOTE 1: This story is going to be a part of the Alternative Universe, starting from the fiction by namanKAL (.net/u/1617708/) called "Two fathers versus one son", T version. I read it, and a rabid, saber-toothed, fire-breathing, fluffy, plot-bunny attacked me. The author kindly permitted me to use their plotline and other characters—namely, Tony's father and uncle—for my own story as well as include references to some events taking place in "Two fathers" and other characters. This fiction is a follow-up, wildly AU one, at that. The characters are likely to be out of character, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: You might need to read "Two fathers" first, to understand some references, but not really. Here's the gist of it: Tony's father suddenly returns in his life. It turns out that he has an identical twin brother, who had kidnapped him and held him prisoner when Tony was really little. It was in fact the uncle who had abused Tony as a child. Now the evil uncle has been taken care of, and the father wants to make amends to Tony for the lost years. However, Tony has already formed a father/son bond with Gibbs, and neither of the older men is willing to share their son. It all ends well, Gibbs legally adopts Tony, and Tony now has two doting fathers. Still, there is a dark cloud looming at the horizon…

My story picks up about 1 year after the end of "Two fathers". The timeline is different from the canon, but it's an AU, so... Chronologically, it takes place in the middle of season 4. "Hiatus" never happened. I also made Tony younger that he presumably is in the show. My Tony graduated from school at 16, from college at 19, and my story starts shortly before his 30th birthday.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 3: The medical information in the story was collected from the web. I did my homework the best I could, but I probably got most of it wrong, seeing that I'm not a medical professional. Please, don't flame me for that!

THANKS AGAIN TO NAMANKAL FOR LETTING ME PLAY IN THEIR SANDBOX!


	2. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit. Thanks to namanKal for inspiration. The story is wildly AU. Warnings for explicit violence etc. Not for weak-hearted._

Prologue

When Gibbs burst into the damp dingy room, his blood ran cold from horror – his son, his boy was laying motionless on a filthy mattress, spread-eagled, his wrists and ankles shackled to D-rings strategically placed in four corners around him. The chains holding his limbs were just long enough for Tony to bend his elbows and knees a little, but incapable of changing his position in any other way or turning over. His jailor obviously wanted Tony to be able to squirm and attempt to fight, while remaining essentially helpless, flat on his belly. And the fact that the young man did try to get away was glaringly obvious – his wrists and ankles were bloody and swollen where the shackles had cut into the tender skin, discolored from repeated abuse. Tony's stark-naked body was littered with bruises, welts and abrasions – the silent evidence of the attacker's brutality. But the buttocks presented the worst image, smeared with blood and cum and excrements, some of it dry, some still fresh. The young man's anus was torn and swollen, a trickle of blood was sluggishly making its way down his thigh.

The foul smell assaulted Gibbs' senses and nearly made him gag, as he approached Tony, taking in the details of the horrific scene. The threadbare mattress the young agent was lying on was soaked through with blood and body-waste. Gibbs shuddered at the thought of bacteria breeding in this environment, of the probable infection to the wounds and future ramifications for Tony. Four day, four days his son was here. The boy had been sick to begin with, and now he was brutalized and wounded, lying in the pool of his own… Gibbs severely cut this line of thought. He took a few steps forward, paying no attention to his surroundings, to his colleagues flooding the room, to agents' voices clearing the house upstairs. His single focus was the motionless figure of his son, so still and broken, taking wheezy, shuddering breaths, eyes moving restlessly under the closed lids. The only thing Gibbs wanted was to gather his boy in his arms, hug him tightly, reassure him that everything's gonna be OK, you just have to hold on a little more, you are safe, the help is coming, you just wait a little more, baby, you'll be fine, I'm here, I'll take care of you, don't you worry…

Gibbs shook his head to get rid of the light-headedness and nausea he was feeling and rushed to Tony's side. First he had to get him out of the shackles. No key was in sight, and he fumbled in search of his lock-pick kit. His hands shook a little so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. With utmost care he took a bloody hand in his own, then picked the lock and freed the wrist. Up close it looked even worse, swollen, bruised and raw. Suppressing the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, Gibbs moved to the other hand, then down to his feet, all the while studiously trying not to look at Tony's other injuries, afraid to break down then and there if he did. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice steps approaching him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning abruptly and nearly ending up falling on his butt, Gibbs saw Ducky's apologetic face looming above him.

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I didn't mean to startle you. The house has been cleared, so I came immediately to check over our dear boy". The elderly ME sounded sad and worried.

"It's OK, Duck. Just help Tony. Where's the EMTs?" Gibbs was surprised how hoarse and uneven his voice sounded, nothing compared to his usual angry growl. But perhaps, he shouldn't've been surprised, seeing that a lump in his throat size of a bowling ball made it rather difficult to speak.

"The ambulance was on stand-by, so I gave them a green light as soon as I heard it was safe to enter. It'll take them just a few minutes."

"Good".

Both men lapsed into silence, while Ducky carefully examined Tony's injuries, checking him for broken bones and tenderly palpating the soft tissues.

"Now, Jethro, let's turn Tony on his back. I need to check the front; besides, it would ease his breathing a little. There, I will support his head and you ease him on his back slowly".

Carefully, as if they were handling a newborn baby, they two men turned Tony to lie of his back. He didn't utter a sound, which worried Gibbs immensely. While Ducky was checking the young agent for broken ribs, Gibbs cupped his son's cheek tenderly. He frowned as he felt the boy burning up. Not good. Not good at all. Tony and fever didn't get along at the best of times, it made him cranky, fretful and downright surly. Gibbs now actually had a pretty good idea how Tony had been as a toddler, when throwing a temper tantrum. At times it was all Gibbs could do not to take Tony over his knee and give the brat a spanking of his life. Not now, though. Now Gibbs would give anything just to hear his son bitching that he hated being sick, that his head hurt, that he was too hot or too cold, that no, he wasn't going to take a nap, he wasn't three years old, thank you very much, and don't you dare to call Ducky, dad, it's just a freaking cold, not plague, and I damn well know the difference.

That's how this nightmare started—Tony had fever, and was sent home to have some rest, and…

_A/N: This is my very first fanfic, and I'm fully intending to see it through to the end. The reviews are welcome, but I'd appreciate you not flaming me. English is not my native language, but I did my best to spell-check and get my idioms right, so that my readers don't feel like Ziva helped me to write the story. Hope you like it!_


	3. Chapter 1

_Thank you all very much for your reviews and alerts and sorry for not replying to them individually. I hope the story will live up to your expectations._

_The plotline in the story will jump from past to present time, until the two timelines merge. The chapters will be alternating between past and present time. This story is a sequel for another one, so to understand some allusions, you might want to read the author's notes in the chapter "Disclaimer"._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Warnings for violence._

**Chapter 1 **

Several days earlier

"It's official – he's gonna drive me crazy. I can just as well call the nearest madhouse and reserve a nice white padded cell." That was the thought running through Gibbs's mind as he was desperately trying to concentrate on reading the report in front of him and failing, failing.

The cause of his distraction was sitting at the table across him, seemingly engrossed in a cold-case file and presenting the image of a hard-working, no-nonsense, focused Senior Field Agent at NCIS Major Crimes Response Team, the one to protect the innocent, to catch the criminals and the one totally, absolutely, positively incapable of playing some silly childish prank on one of his colleagues. No, sir, not him, never. Wouldn't even cross his mind. And he surely had nothing to do with McGee now trying to hide behind his monitor from passer-bys' curious glances.

To be fair, McGee hadn't even been the initial target of the prank, he just had the world's worst timing to try and start living a healthy life. He drank some of Agent Richard 'Call me Dicky' Atwood's vitamin cocktail and was now sporting green moustache, green lips and green teeth. Acid-green. Glow-in-the-dark acid green. The last particular side-effect was discovered a couple of hours earlier up in MTAC where Madame Director had summoned them to settle some issue or other concerning their last week's trip to Norfolk. When they entered the darkened room, and the Director failed to say anything pertaining to the case or do anything at all, apart from standing there, gaping in shock at something behind his shoulder, Gibbs felt deep in his bones that this was going to be a long day. Turning around, he saw his fears confirmed – yep, there was McGee looking vaguely resigned, his whole mouth literally growing in the dark. A REALLY long day.

Now that the commotion had died down a bit, Gibbs idly wondered where Tony managed to get the fluorescent paint. Abby must have been involved in the prank at some point. No way would she pass up on something like that, not that Tony owned up to her guilt or his own. Gibbs managed to protect them both from the director's wrath, pointing out that the perpetrator was obviously targeting Atwood, McGee being an accidental victim, so there was no reason to accuse DiNozzo of pranking him. Atwood and DiNozzo rarely even crossed their paths, apart from riding the elevator together from time to time. That was a load of bullshine, of course. Atwood used to come on to Abby all the time a while ago, but after she turned him down, he chose to take offence. Nothing major, just a jibe here and there, a few sarcastic digs, not enough for Gibbs to intervene but irritating all the same. Most of the time Abby just brushed the taunts aside and asked Gibbs not to interfere on her behalf. DiNozzo was fuming, though. Obviously, after hearing Atwood's latest remark that Abby was wearing such short skirts to work just to lead people on, Tony decided to take the matters into his own hands. Hence the fluorescent green food dye in the herbal vitamin cocktail Atwood was drinking reverently every day.

To be completely honest, Gibbs couldn't care less that Atwood was now a laughing stock for the entire building. That dick – no pun intended – got what was coming to him for a long time. The problem was DiNozzo; the kid was going stir-crazy. The team hadn't caught any cases since that trip to Norfolk. The temperature was stubbornly holding below zero, the roads were iced over, and the crime for once seemed to be taking a break, as the criminals seemed to have enough sense to stay at home.

The forced down-time was getting to everyone. Ziva was killing time alternating between putting the fear of Jewish women in helpless probies at the gym and regaling anyone willing to listen with tales of her assassin days at Mossad. McGee took this chance to upgrade the team's software and install some new – Gibbs couldn't remember what this stuff was called to save his life – to their computers. Abby was recreating the Thermopylae Battle at her lab, using toy soldiers and headless Barbie dolls – 'they are just too pink to live, Gibbs!' – and moving the furniture. Ducky used the unexpected break to study for his impending exams. Gibbs was actually thinking he could at last clear up the backlog of reports sitting at his desk. DiNozzo was a whole other matter, though. The boy didn't do idle well. Some people wouldn't agree with this statement, but Gibbs knew better. He came in earlier than anyone except Gibbs himself and went home after the others were long gone, say nothing of the midnight trips to the office. The recent lull made Tony restless and irritable. The cold cases could keep him busy for a while, but not for too long really. Gibbs was almost willing to go and kill some poor sailor, just to get a case to solve. Bored Tony was unpredictable Tony, and last time he had nothing to do for more than a few days he added liquid soap to toilet bowls in the executive restroom upstairs. Not that anyone except Gibbs knew for sure Tony was the author of the prank, even if people had their suspicions. No evidence was found, and the surveillance cameras were conveniently turned off for routine maintenance.

Gibbs was suddenly dragged out of his reverie by a concerned voice.

"You okay, Boss?" DiNozzo somehow materialized in front of Gibbs's desk without him noticing.

"Yeah, why?" The Senior Agent rubbed his tired eyes. The inactivity was making him more tired than some all-nighters they'd pulled.

"Well, you've been staring at that report for the last ten minutes and didn't turn a single page. Oh, and sighing heavily." Tony raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Gibbs felt ridiculously touched by his worry. 'That's part of being family, I guess,' he mused. 'Don't think I'll ever get used to it.' He gave the younger agent a small smile.

"I'm good, Tony." He deliberately used the first name to show that he was being honest. "Just tired." Gibbs spared a glance to his watch. 1800 already. They could all just as well break up for today. Not much to do at the office anyway.

"Go home, people. Be back to the office at 0900 on the dot." Seeing the bewildered looks his team were giving him, he growled irritably, "Get out or I'll find you a job. Filing." Being trained federal agents, they knew better than to stall in the face of such dire threat and scattered.

"You going home, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, surprised, as his Senior Field Agent seemed in no hurry to leave. Tony actually sat back at the desk and started sifting through some papers. "You look like you could use some rest."

"Sure, Boss. Just waiting for Abby to finish some last-minute tests the Director had her running, and then I'm out of here," Tony smiled softly, touched by this display of parental concern. Even though it'd been over a year since Gibbs had officially adopted him, having someone give a damn about his well-being never ceased to amaze him. Now that his birth father was back in his life, he had two such someones.

"You two going clubbing?"

"Not on a school night, Boss. You know me better than that. It's just our regular movie night." Tony paused. "Wanna join us?" he asked, his voice hopeful. They hadn't managed to spend any quality time lately outside the job. Despite the light caseload, the new Director was doing her best to show Gibbs who the boss was, so more often than not the Senior Agent was tied up at late-night conferences at MTAC in the last week or two.

Gibbs thought the idea over. He had some chores to do back at the house, of course; the kitchen tap was leaking and the pile of dirty laundry was actually starting to smell a little. And those take-out boxes in the fridge by now probably held something capable of taking over the world. Besides, he'd been waiting for forever for some free time, to fix some loose shingles on the roof before winter came full-force. So his answer was, "Sure, kiddo. Let me just wrap some stuff up, and I'm all yours."

The smile that lit Tony's face was worth skipping the chores and then some. The young man pulled his adopted father briefly in a one-armed hug. "Cool. We're gonna have great time, dad. Watch some movies, eat some popcorn..."

"…play 'Find ten differences between Gibbs and Mark Harmon'," came Abby's voice from behind their backs.

Gibbs pretended to be irritated – it had been an on-going game between Tony and Abby ever since they discovered the resemblance between himself and the actor. "What are we watching anyway?" he growled, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't fooling anyone.

"'The Presidio'", Abby chirped.

"Meg Ryan and Sean Connery for me, Mark Harmon for Abby, and the case story for you to remember your MP days," Tony was now openly grinning.

Gibbs barked an amused laugh and gently slapped Tony on the back of his head. The boy was truly irrepressible. "Go. Now. I'll meet you at your apartment."

"We are actually going to the mansion, dad."

"Why not to the apartment? It's a lot closer. Besides, I thought your Pop was still away on business." Tony actually preferred to stay at his apartment on week days to sleeping at his father's mansion because of it being closer to the headquarters, so he could sleep in a little in the mornings.

"Two words, Dad: entertainment system. The TV back at my place is great, but it can't beat the home cinema at the mansion. Besides, Pop is staying in Germany for a few more days." The young agent sounded a little sad, obviously missing his other father. Ever since returning to Tony's life a year and half earlier, DiNozzo Sr. never left his son alone for more than a couple of days in a row, as if scared that his boy would disappear if left unattended. Currently, though, Antonio's presence was required in Germany in order to try and avoid closing down a plant there and firing thousands of workers a month before Christmas.

"I see. Don't forget the pizza, and if you rat me out to your Pop that I'm indulging your unhealthy eating habits, I'm kicking your ass." Gibbs's attempt to cheer his son up was successful – Tony lit up immediately. Gibbs suppressed a smile; pizza was a sure-fire way to make Tony a happy camper, especially now that the family was trying to make him eat healthier meals, and pizza was allowed only on week-ends.

"Come on, Tony, quit stalling already. We have stuff to do," Abby was tugging her best friend by the sleeve. "See you later, Gibbs. Don't be too late or else we are starting without you."

"Later, dad."

With these parting words the terrible two headed to the elevator, leaving Gibbs to finish his paperwork, an uncommon gentle smile playing on his face.

~*~*~

Tony and Abby actually ended up going to his apartment. Tony needed the PDA he had forgotten there in the morning, and Abby announced she wanted a potty break anyway. When they arrived, the young man went straight to his bedroom and was rummaging through the rolltop desk he had there when he heard Abby calling his name.

"Hey, T-man. It looks like you're invited to some wedding. Can I be your date? We could shock the hell out of the family."

Tony knew she was grinning madly even without seeing her. However, he had no clue what the hell she was talking about. "What are you talking about, Abs?"

Abby slid into the room – and how can anyone be so quiet wearing platform combat boots, anyway? – and held out a small cream-colored envelope. "It was on the floor in the hall when we came. Looks like an invitation to me."

The envelope in fact looked like an invitation of some sort: expensive, smooth paper, not some run-of-the-mill crap, gilded letters of the only address line naming the recipient 'Anthony D. DiNozzo'. Someone obviously paid big bucks to get it done. Tony was strangely reluctant to open it, though, especially with Abby present. If he had learned anything at all from his bout with the plague, it was that letters from unknown senders normally brought no good. However, before he could say or do anything, Abby snatched the letter out of his hands.

"Oh, come on. You don't really think it's plague again? I'll open it for you." And without further delay she tore the letter open.

"Abby, what the hell? You can't just open anonymous letters like that! What if it was a bomb?" Tony groused, irritated. Then seeing no reaction from her, he got a little worried. "Abby?" he tried again, more gently this time. It wasn't like Abby to just stand there transfixed. "What's going on?"

She mutely showed him the letter. Then Tony understood her reaction and added his own "Well, shit" to it.

The envelope contained a single sheet of the same smooth, cream-colored paper with a line engraved in pretty gilded letters:

_"Do you miss me, whore? I'm coming."_


	4. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for all your kind reviews and encouragement. Can I have some more? ;)_

_I know there is really no excuse for such a delay in posting. It's not that I didn't have time in RL. The muse had abandoned me, but now it's back, I'll do my best to be more responsible and update often._

_Standard disclaimer. Warnings for violence. __Description of a severe medical condition._

_On with the story now._

**Chapter 2**

Present time

Gibbs was pacing restlessly. No one would call him a patient man under normal circumstances, but now that Tony was hurt, Gibbs' urge to try and make things right worsened. It was his standard MO – to act, not react; his stint with the Marines made sure of that. Assess the threat, move in, eliminate. Then take care of the damage. Actively. Waiting wasn't coming naturally to him. Even when Tony had been laid up with the plague, Gibbs was able to do something – first try and find the vaccine, then make sure his boy didn't give up and kept on fighting, later help him in his recovery. All this made sure Gibbs had been occupied pretty much non-stop and had little or no free time to fret and ponder on 'what ifs'. It was much, much later that Gibbs actually stopped to think about what could have happened, and the horror of almost losing the son of his heart brought him to his knees. At the time, though, he was able to pull himself together thanks to the fact that Tony was sleeping soundly in the guest – no, his own – bedroom, and Gibbs knew that his boy was out of danger, if not completely healed, and he could watch him sleep to his heart's content. Which he did, repeatedly, until a few days later Tony threatened to slip him some sleeping pills unless he spent at least half of the night in the recumbent position – in his own bed, and not in the bean bag chair in his son's room.

That was then. Right now, though, Gibbs could only wait. When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, and Tony after a brief assessment of his injuries was taken away to the emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding, Gibbs, having completed the necessary paperwork for his son's medical treatment, firmly planted himself in a freakishly hard chair at the surgical waiting room. He was determined to remain there until the doctors came out and told him that his boy was going to be OK. He briefly considered calling Antonio – the man hadn't been able to get back home as no European airport was clearing departures due to severe weather – but summarily dismissed the idea. No need to worry the man any more before Gibbs himself heard any conclusive word on Tony's condition. That left waiting, and Gibbs just didn't do waiting. It left his imagination running wild, and despite what anyone might think of him, his imagination was rather vivid, it was one of the factors making him a good investigator. However, at this particular moment, imagination was his worst enemy. He couldn't help but remember Tony laying helplessly on the filthy floor in that godforsaken basement, the only sign of him being alive his painful shuddering breaths. Then the ride to the hospital, when Gibbs seemingly for ages was clutching his son's limp hand, pleading with him to fight, not to leave his daddy alone, but even then there were a few moments when the boy's tired heart nearly came to a halt despite his father's desperate entreaties. And now he was in the surgery. Internal bleeding, they said. Apart from the obvious injuries, the blunt force trauma had lead to some major blood vessels rupturing, so Tony was lucky they found him when they did, otherwise he would have bled out in the matter of hours. Even now his blood volume was so low that his heart had a hard time attempting to compensate for the loss. So now they would cut his boy open to try and find the bleeds while he laid on the table completely helpless, and Gibbs couldn't be there for him, hold him close, alleviate his pain, and he was failing his family again, failing Tony, wasting the second chance in life he had been given so selflessly…

Gibbs actually jumped from his seat when someone's hand touched his. He had been so deeply immersed in his pain and guilt that, despite his Marine training, he missed Ducky approaching. The elderly ME gently took his friend's hand even as he tiredly dropped into another chair and met the tortured eyes of the other man.

"I see you've had your hand mauled, Jethro. It is bound to get infected if you keep this up," he reproved mildly even as he proceeded to clean the damaged skin with some antiseptic wipes.

Gibbs blinked uncomprehendingly and then shifted his gaze to his hands been carefully handled by the doctor. Oh crap, he went and did it again. Nail biting was an old nervous habit of his, going far back to his childhood. His parents has tried to break him of it and even succeeded to some extent. However, it wasn't until he had joined the Corps that he learned how to redirect his anxiety and frustration, so he wouldn't feel the compulsion to abuse his hands anymore. Still, even later, when he was particularly distressed, he reverted to the old pattern of his, biting his nails until they bled. The last time he did it was when he and Shannon had been waiting for a doctor to confirm that Kelly had some murmurs in her heart. And now, in a different hospital, waiting for news on Tony…

Gibbs rose abruptly, nearly dislodging Ducky's tools of trade, and quickly wiped his eyes. He needed to get a grip of himself, the agent decided. He was no use to his son in such state. First nail biting, then what, he will be breaking down in the restroom like a little girl? No, he would collect himself and hold it together, that is, until they come and tell that his boy hadn't…

Furiously squelching that line of thought, Gibbs addressed the ME who was worriedly looking him over.

"Any news, Duck? They wouldn't tell me anything except 'The doctors are doing their best' shit."

The ME sighed, his heart tugging painfully at the pain he saw in his best friend's eyes and at the suffering his surrogate nephew was still undergoing despite the fact that they had managed to save him from his tormentors' hands.

"Nothing yet, Jethro. But in this case I believe that no news is good news. It's been a little over an hour yet; such procedures normally take a bit longer. The head nurse assured me that they will send us an update on Anthony's condition as soon as possible".

Gibbs nodded briefly, unable to squeeze a suitable response past the lump in his throat. Now that Ducky was here, he was unable to sit still, so he started pacing the floor of the waiting room. Step, step, step, another step, turn about, four more steps, repeat the sequence.

'At least he left his hands alone', the ME mused. He wasn't concerned about Jethero's nervous habit per se, it was just a relatively harmless way of stress-relief; it was just that Gibbs' nail biting was the tell-tale sign of the impending nervous breakdown. Ducky had witnessed it several times before, although he chose not to comment on it in order not to embarrass his friend. It always came back in time of crisis even though Gibbs seemed not to notice it, and for the last five or so years it always was somehow related to young Anthony.

"I took it upon myself to notify Abigail of the development. Depending on the traffic, she should be here any minute now," Ducky told, knowing that some distraction was required for his friend to get a hold of his emotions.

That elicited another nod from the marine. This whole clusterfuck made him completely forget about Abby. The team had been forced to leave her behind, in DC, when they went to get Tony, and she was none too happy about the fact, even though she refrained from voicing her displeasure, understanding full well that she would only be a liability in the field. So she remained at her lab, waiting for them to bring her friend back, clutching desperately at the stuffed toy Tony had given her a while ago after one of their sibling-like quarrels, and she had dubbed it 'The T-Bear' just like she would often call Tony himself. Gibbs hated to leave her like that, but his priority would always be Tony, and he was glad she understood it. Now she would come to provide some desperately required support, that was, after she had her own mini-breakdown over Tony's condition. That was what Gibbs admired most about Abby – her bubbly nature and quirky habits hid the backbone of steel; she would never fall apart until she felt she could safely afford it.

Probably, he should also call and update McGee and Ziva at some point. He had left them at the scene to supervise the collection of evidence, dot all i's and cross all t's, make sure none of Tony's attackers got off on some technicality. The team was forced to share the investigation with the FBI, as Tony was a civilian, not a member of the Navy or the Marines, so they had to give the lead to Fornell, not to mention the fact that they were too close to the victim not to be considered biased. Thankfully, the Director wasn't stupid enough to presume that they would just twiddle their thumbs and do nothing while Tony was in danger; she knew full well that the only way to stop Gibbs from going vigilante on her was to let him in on the investigation. Fornell was understanding as well, skipping his customary game of one-upmanship with Gibbs, knowing that he would be feeling the same, had it been his daughter Emily that someone kidnapped.

So, after all was said and done, Gibbs left Zava and McGee to finish up the formal case as he rode with Tony to the hospital. He hadn't heard from them since; no wonder, he actually turned his phone off, breaking one of his own cardinal rules, after he had dismissed the thought of calling DiNozzo Senior for a while. He'd need to call them at some point, fill them in on the news, ask for an update on the case, but right now he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. He just didn't care; he didn't care about anything and anyone except his son. They knew where to find him – right beside his boy, to the very end, whatever happened.

Suddenly, for the second time that day, Gibbs was brought out of his musings by somebody clutching his hands. He raised his eyes only to meet those of his favorite forensic scientist. Evidently, Abby reached the hospital while he was immersed in his thoughts. Her look was unusually somber, so unlike their normally exuberant Goth energizer-bunny; she also didn't bother to put on any of her regular heavy make-up that day, so her eyes turned into pools of hazel light sparkling with unshed tears. She was holding herself together surprisingly well, considering the circumstances, only sniffing from time to time. She was also uncommonly silent, probably sensing Gibbs' inability to express the depth of his heartache. She simply took his hand in two of her own and felt it trembling a little, just as Gibbs himself was shivering imperceptibly. She then pulled her friend to a small sofa in the room's darkened corner, settled him there, hugged him tightly, and waited for the news.

What seemed eons later, but in fact in only about three hours a nurse timidly accessed their group, to which Ziva and McGee had joined some time before that, and said,

"Are you here for Agent DiNozzo?"

Gibbs, who having gone to splash some cold water on his burning face had refused to sit back down and was now staring unseeingly at some poster or other at the wall, barked,

"I'm his father. What's the word?"

The nurse was rather stunned by his harsh tone, but after working at the hospital for a while, she was used to interacting with distraught family members waiting for news on their loved ones, so she didn't take it personally. What's more, she had witnessed the condition of the young man brought to the operating theater several hours previously, and felt his father's distress was warranted.

"The doctor will be out to talk to you shortly. All I can say is that he survived the surgery and is now in recovery".

The news was greeted by the massive sigh of relief, and before she could be bombarded by a volley of other questions seemingly on the tips of everybody's tongues, a weary-looking surgeon approached the group. He looked rather grim, so the NCIS team sensed that he was probably bearing bad news as well as good ones.

As the doctor drew nearer, he unerringly singled Gibbs out from the group.

"I'm Dr. Cummings. I performed the surgery on Agent DiNozzo," he said dismissing the nurse with a brief nod.

"Tony. His name's Tony," was Gibbs' choked reply. "I'm Jethro Gibbs, Tony's father, and these are his teammates."

Dr. Cummings nodded again and proceeded to answer the unvoiced questions. "OK then. The good news is that your son survived the surgery, as Nurse Fuentes has already told you. It was touch and go for a while, though. Tony went into cardiac arrest at the table."

Gibbs heard Abby gasp at that, but was unable to offer her comfort as he felt his own heart breaking at the thought of his son dying.

"For how long?" Duck cut in in the meantime.

"For about 80 seconds," was the doctor's reply. "And you are?..."

"Donald Mallard, M.D. I am Anthony's primary care physician, even though I work with NCIS in the capacity of a medical examiner".

Dr. Cummings didn't even blink at hearing that someone had a coroner to treat them; he simply proceeded, relieved for another medical professional to be included in the discussion,

"I assure you, Mr. Gibbs, that the arrest did nothing to impede Tony's recovery, it resulted from the sheer volume of blood lost." After sensing a subvocal relieved sigh from the stony-faced man, he went on, "Now as to Tony's injuries. I will not sugarcoat the situation. We are now most worried about the trauma to his pelvic area. Somebody must have beaten Tony with a blunt object, breaking his pelvis in two places as well as his right femur, right tibia, and left fibula. His right hip is also displaced. We have brought an orthopedic surgeon in to consult, and came to decision to deal with these injuries in a few days, after Tony is a little stronger."

"What about…" Gibbs started and then cleared his throat, constricted at hearing this impassive rendition. "What about the bleeding? I was told he was bleeding internally when…"

"Yes, he was. Fortunately, it wasn't as heavy as we feared. The renal artery was damaged, true, but not as badly as we expected. We patched up the bleeds and are now transfusing Tony to restore the blood volume. We will need to monitor his internal organs' functions closely for a while, though; all of them are badly bruised. Now, back to fractures, if we go from bottom upwards, Tony also suffered from three broken ribs, neither of which miraculously pierced his lungs, broken right radius and humerus, broken right clavicle, fractured jaw, and a concussion. It also seems that he was sexually assaulted and tortured."

Gibbs could only stare at the doctor who was giving out this laundry list of abuse. It couldn't be happening. His precious, strong, beautiful boy couldn't be broken so badly, no way, no... The plea of denial stuck in his throat unuttered as his ears were filled with white noise. Seeing his friend's distress, Ducky quickly stepped up and led Gibbs to the nearby chair, while the doctor ordered a nurse to fetch a glass of water.

After the bout of dizziness passed, Gibbs mumbled, "Sorry," paying no heed to his dumbfounded team who were rendered speechless both by the uncharacteristic display of weakness and the apology. He then continued, "That's not all of it, right?"

"I'm afraid not. Tony is currently not breathing on his own. The stress to his lungs was too great. That, coupled with his prior condition, sent him into respiratory arrest. We performed tracheotomy to provide him respiratory support".

In reply to Gibbs' silent question Dr. Cummings elaborated, "Tracheotomy is a surgical technique. We basically made an incision in his windpipe to create a direct airway, and inserted a breathing tube there. We presume Tony will need some assistance in his breathing for a while, and in the long term this procedure is better than shoving a tube down his throat. Once ventilation is not required anymore, we'll close the stoma – the incision – and he'll be good as new."

Gibbs nodded, grateful for compassion, and asked the question everyone had in mind but was afraid to ask,

"So, what's the prognosis, doc? Will he be OK?"

Dr. Cummings rubbed his tired eyes and wished he could bring better news to this clearly close-knit family.

"I won't lie to you, Mr. Gibbs. Tony is still critical; I cannot give you any guarantees. His injuries are severe. We will be able to give you a more definitive answer in 72 hours, at the earliest. As for long-term prognosis… Well, he hasn't regained consciousness yet and probably won't for a while. Until he does, we'll be unable to assess the extent of neurological damage, say nothing of psychological repercussions of the trauma. I have to warn you: the road to recovery will be long and tough. I am 90% sure that he will get pneumonia as a result of combination of infection, the cold he had before the injury, and the prolonged stay in the supine position despite the fact that we've already started precautionary treatment. The pelvic fracture will keep him on bed-rest for at least three months, probably more. Then he will need to learn now to walk and use his body again. He will require a long rehabilitation to regain control of the most basic bodily functions. He will need psychological support along the way, too…"

"He will get all that and more. Whatever he needs, he will get," Gibbs interrupted the doctor resolutely. "I... his family, his team will be there every step of the way."

"Good," Dr. Cummings smiled for the first time. "Support is 30 per cent of recovery."

"I want to see him," was Gibbs' next demand.

"Once he is settled in his ICU cubicle, you will. A nurse will come to get you. But only one of you for now, and only for ten minutes every hour." Dr. Cummings raised his hand to halt the storm of outraged exclamations. "I understand full well that you all want to see for yourself that Tony is alive, but I cannot allow it. My first concern is the patient's well-being, and right now he simply cannot be disturbed in any way, bad or good."

"Your orders will be followed, Doctor," Gibbs solemnly swore. He then turned to his team, "You heard him, people. Now fall out!"

As the NCIS group left the waiting room, Abby having hugged the stuffing out of Gibbs and Ducky promising to return with Jethro's overnight bag and some much needed supplies, like coffee, Gibbs settled for another wait, feeling a bit more composed but still needing to be with his son.


	5. Chapter 3

_Many thanks for all your reviews and alerts. Keep 'em coming!_

_Standard disclaimer applies. __A tiny spoiler for 'Frame Up'. Not mine, please don't sue. See the very first chapter for some explanations and references._

**Chapter ****3**

Several days earlier

"Hey, that's a new one. I need to add it to my collection."

In the hindsight, Tony should have expected the head slap – Abby tended to take any hint of a threat to her friends extremely seriously, and she had long ago proclaimed him to be her Very Special Bestest Not-So-Female Friend. He even had a diploma sealed with a scull-and-crossbones sticker somewhere among his papers. Rubbing the back of his head absently, he tried a different approach, now steering clear of irate Abby,

"Mmmm, it seems I have a secret admirer?"

This attempt also failed to calm Abby down.

"Anthony Dominic Gibbs-DiNozzo! How can you…!" At this point Abby sputtered, seemingly unable to comprehend the depth of dim-wittedness required to disregard a message of this sort. She even stomped on his foot to drive the idea home to him.

"Hey, that hurt!" Tony shouted offendedly. Not that her attack really hurt him – Abby would never do that – but it was kind of annoying that everyone was always trying to prove a point to him by applying some sort of physical punishment: Gibbs with the head slaps, Pop with spanking, Abby always punched him or stomped on his feet, Kate, God rest her soul, would elbow him in the ribs all the time, and now Ziva took over that responsibility, even Duck had slapped his hands a few times when he was trying to steal those awesome gingerbread cookies, so what that he was prohibited to have any before lunch, why would the ME be so obsessed with his eating habits anyway?... Next thing McGee will actually grow a pair and try to retaliate for calling him 'Probie', and they all could safely watch for signs of the Four Horsemen at the horizon.

Sure enough, Abby was unable to withstand the Pout of Doom™ and pulled Tony in a quick hug. Then she smacked him lightly on the head again but chased it by a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I just worry, Tony-bear. You need to be more careful."

"Well, you shouldn't. After all, I'm a highly trained federal agent," he retorted, still pouting.

"Gibbs worries, too," she offered him what she thought to be an irrefutable argument.

"Well, he shouldn't," Tony still refused to be reasoned with.

"And Antonio worries, and Ducky, and Ziva, and McGee, and even Palmer, and Mrs. Korinski from apartment 4B, and…" Abby rattled off in one breath. "And Sister Theresa, and Ernie Yost, and…"

Tony put a finger on her lips to prevent her from blurting out any more names. Abby bit it playfully but got his point and took a deep breath. Then she continued less agitatedly, but no less seriously,

"Tony, the thing is you don't take care of yourself. You don't eat right or sleep enough, unless someone reminds you to. You go to chase leads half-cocked. Granted, Gibbs has almost broken you out of this habit, but still… You mouth off the perps while they are still in position to hurt you. You, you..." She sniffed furiously and went silent.

"Hey, Abbs, don't get upset. Please? Pretty please, cherry on the top?" Tony wheedled; he hated seeing her upset and be the reason for it. "I really don't mean to, it just happens."

"That's my point!" Abby went back from upset to pissed off. Before she was able to continue, Tony told her in a quiet somber voice,

"The thing is, ever since Uncle Vincent went to jail, I've felt like I have no one to be scared of. Like I'm free and unstoppable, and I want to run around like a headless chicken and do stupid-ass things…"

Abby tried to put a word in, but Tony kept on as if she wasn't there anymore,

"Did you know he was knifed in prison? Sixteen stab wounds, eleven of them in the abdominal and groin area. It seems some biker dude wanted to make him his bitch and refused to take no for an answer. Speak about what goes around, comes around."

"Was it when you took a few days off a couple of months back?" Abby inquired quietly. She remembered it well – Tony looked so out of it that she considered calling her friend the voodoo priestess to consult about curses and zombie magic. Then Gibbs made him take a four-day weekend, took some time off himself, and Tony returned to work as his former adorable and at times infuriating self.

"Yeah. Pop and dad took me camping. I really needed it, needed to get rid of distractions to put this… mess… in perspective," Tony admitted softly. He still had trouble expressing how he felt about his troubled childhood spent with an abusive uncle. He, however, realized that he needed to let it all out, he knew as much even without the words of wisdom from the expensive shrink his Pop made him visit. "He… I mean Vincent… would always say I was worthless, only good for a fuck and nothing else, that I would never achieve anything, end up in the gutter, well you get the meaning… At the time I thought he was my real father, so I hung on every word like it was Holy Gospel..."

At this point Abby attempted to interrupt him, to reassure and defend, but Tony gently silenced her again and continued,

"Then I broke free from him. Went to college, joined the police force. Made something of myself. But even then, when something went wrong, I would hear his voice in the back of my mind. When I broke my leg and couldn't play football anymore, or when in Philly a jumper took my partner with him, or when I got that stupid plague... I'd hear, 'You're nothing, boy. Quit trying to fool everyone and go back to me. At least here you will be what you really are – a good lay.' Then Kate died, and things just kept piling one on the top of the other. If not for Gibbs, I…" He went silent, staring into nothingness.

Abby knew better than to pry for more; Tony just didn't work like that – if he felt threatened or coerced to disclose something he wasn't ready to share, he would simply clam up, and the topic would be put on the back burner for a good long while. Abby's tactic was to support and outwait him. As usual, it worked, even though Tony took his sweet time to speak again.

"Then Gibbs took me in and made me feel like I'm worth something again. And Pop returned. And they both love me and believe in me. So nothing bad can happen to me. Ever!" he concluded rather forcefully, in the end punching the armrest of the soft leather couch they had drifted to at some point.

Abby stared at him incredulously, "Are you seriously telling me that you are going to disregard a threat because you feel like the king of the world?"

"Well, not completely. I mean, that'd be just stupid, after all I've made my fair share of enemies," Tony retorted, a bit embarrassed. "It's just… Remember that asswipe Chip?"

"How can I forget! I nearly sent you to jail!" Abby was completely mortified – after all, on that particular occasion it was her fault that Tony got in trouble – and proceeded to fiercely hug her friend.

"That's not what I mean!" Tony squeezed out; a full-on Abby-hug was a force to be reckoned with. "I wanted to say that dad went through my entire list of prospective ill-wishers and went and made it clear to each and every one of them what he'd do if they as much as thought of messing with me."

"Go Gibbs!" Abby crowed happily. She just knew Gibbs wouldn't let her down; he took the task of keeping their Tony-boy safe and sound seriously.

"Abbs, you have no idea how embarrassing it was to have your dad visit your former girlfriends and threaten them with God knows what! Pam Kim even sent me flowers and a letter of apology on three pages!" Abby only laughed at Tony's outraged whine. "Besides, he and Pop took it upon themselves to keep the list of my professional enemies up to date, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe on that front, too."

Seeing that Abby was already half-convinced, Tony pressed on, "Abby, please. You of all people know everything about hate mail. It's probably from some misguided woman. She'll egg my door or call me while drunk a few times, and that'll be the end of it."

"OK, OK," Abby relented. Then, suddenly somber, she took Tony's face in her palms and told, looking directly in his eyes, "Promise you'll be careful, Anthony."

"I promise, Abigail," he returned equally seriously.

And they proceeded to cuddle on the couch, the letter forgotten on the floor.

/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\

_A.N.: Here's another chapter. Sorry, it's a litte shoter that the previous ones, but I thought this was a logical place to finish. The next chapter won't be coming for at least two weeks - my long-awaited vacation is coming up, and I'm heading southwards. I hope lots of reviews will wait for me when I'm back *hints*)))_


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